Aug 13

rain from the perspective of a five year old

Today it rained again,
For the third time this week.
"Isn't it strange that it's been raining a lot?" my mom asks.
I don't respond.
I watch the rain hit the window,
Drops coalescing and rolling down so effortlessly.
I would go outside and stand away from the trees,
Letting it mess up my already unkempt hair
But it’s salty.
It stings my skin a little.
So I watch as it fills up the bucket I’ve left outside yesterday.
Soon it’s overflowing as the rain comes down stronger
Beating on the grass, weeds, flowers, shrubs
Sweeping away the debris into the sewers.
Water gushes out over the brim of the bucket on all sides
In a way, it’s cathartic. Some hate the rain, but I would rather wait.
"Take your time," I say. We're only separated by a pane of glass.
I look out as high as I can,
Past the tall trees in the distance towards the clouds, sitting in their usual spots.
Jul 26

Don't send me one of your metaphors


Don’t send me one of your metaphors;
I do not need your fancy words.
Phrases longer than my textbook
I didn’t know I could get more bored.

Don’t you tell me how my eyes glisten.
They are only ordinary,
The most common shade of dark brown.
Won’t you please stop with this? Please listen.

Don’t say my hair flows like the river;
It’s more like a sea of garbage
Strewn with plastic bags, empty cans.
Your attempts only make me snicker. 

Don’t describe how I light up the room, 
How my presence is angelic,
How my laughter brings so much joy. 
Don’t you know I can only bring gloom? 

Don’t you dare use any similes
They are just as bad - if not worse.
I know your intentions are pure
But the person I need to respect me
Care about me
Support me
Love me
Is me.
Jul 18

perspectives

Sometimes I forget
That my vases,
Porcelain and decorated with intricate cerulean details,
The result of years of hard work and sweat,
The ones that are now shattered, jagged, and ruined,
Scattered on the marble floor in shards,
Appear merely as wooden blocks to the passersby.

To them, it was once a sturdy tower
And it will be again, as if time had waited.

To them, my problems appear small and ordinary,
Easily fixable.

I wish I had known this earlier.

(author's note: basically the previous poem, but with some edits and also I recorded me reading it.)

 
Jul 12

my problems

Sometimes I forget
That my vases,
Porcelain and decorated with intricate cerulean details
Yet shattered, jagged, ruined
Scattered on the marble floor in shards
Appear as wooden blocks to the passersby.

To them, it once was a sturdy tower
And it will be again, as if time had waited.
To them, my problems appear small and ordinary
Easily fixable.

I wish I had known this earlier
 
Jul 11

the man and his scissors (edited)

She can feel the bumpy rock beneath her through the thin soles of her shoes.
It leaves its erratic imprints on her hands, like the jagged landscape below
A cool autumn breeze lifts her hair gently from behind,
The light of a descending sun warms her face with its autumnal glow.

Sitting on the top of the school, she is alone
Above even the tallest trees which embrace the fields
Her phone dings, but she reaches over and turns it over, screen facing down.
Let me remember this moment forever, she thinks. Look at this beauty.

A monarch catches her eye, the sun shining through its colored wings.
With each fold and unfolding of its delicate wings it soars miles and miles higher.
What a marvel - it is almost as if it had been crafted by a man and a simple pair of scissors,

Cut from the paper that is the prairie, rolling hills, placid lake, and desert sand.
Jul 10

time

To me, time is running out and I don’t know why
The sunset is a stroke of lilac against the gray-blue sky
Everything I do gives me déjà vu

Time is running out and I don’t know why
Even while I complain about the lack of energy in my hometown,
Cars still speed by intersections
Neon lights flash, plastic bags tumble and tumble,
Our own version of desert tumbleweeds
Look at how they pick up cigarette stubs and flyers as it rolls down the street

Time is running out and I don’t know why
I’m walking too slow
What about by car?
The only thing I know how to do in front of the steering wheel is slow, ninety degree left turns
Steady, one hand over the other. Nice.

Time is running out and I don’t know why
It doesn’t leak slowly like sand in an hourglass
It starts slow and then gets faster and faster
What’s the word? Exponential
Jul 08

the man and his scissors (first draft)

She can feel the bumpy rock beneath her, through the thin soles of her shoes.
It leaves its erratic imprints on her hands, jagged lines and dots
A cool autumn breeze lifts her hair gently from behind,
The light of a descending sun warms her face with its autumnal glow.

She had climbed up from a small, frail metal ladder by the side
Now, sitting on the top of the school, she is by herself.
Her phone dings, but she reaches over and turns it over, screen facing down.
Let me remember this moment forever, she thinks. Look at this beauty.

A monarch catches her eye, the sun shining through its colored wings.
With each fold and unfolding of its delicate wings it soars miles and miles higher.
What a marvel - it is almost as if it had been crafted by a man and a simple pair of scissors,

Cut from the paper that is the prairie, rolling hills, placid lake, and desert sand.
Jun 19

Dear Harvard - rap

i'll be adding a recording of me rapping this soon, i promise

Dear Harvard

Cat’s out the bag and we act like everything is cool?
Act like there hasn’t been in place some secret unwritten rule?
You hold us up like a token - the Hope Diamond of jewels
Token model minority, you put us up on the stool, but ...

When they said America’s the land of the free, I believed them - truly
Well dear Dean Fitzsimmons, where’s my long-earned equality?
To quote MLK “I have a dream” - here, can’t you see?
Now it’s been crushed by so-called claims of “diversity”

Don’t you try to hide it, don’t you try to disguise it
We do better on your tests, don’t you try to deny it
But you’re more likely to write us off as “standard strong” (1)
Guess you think we’re all the same - well guess who’s wrong

You think we’re all piano prodigies, busy tickling the ivories
Jun 11
poem 0 comments challenge: Three

three

Jun 11

3 things I learned junior year

So, I know I’ve been gone for a while. Basically, junior year was very busy. And by very busy, I mean that it felt that I had something important going on every week. I would wake up early on the weekends to either catch up on homework, practice violin, or study for standardized tests. I started the bad habit of staying up past midnight doing homework (so glad summer is here; now i can actually fix my sleep schedule) The year went by faster than I thought it would, especially these last two months. It felt like there were several sprints with few breaks in between. But anyway, I thought I’d share a few things that I’ve learned this year.

1)Everyone’s going to be obsessed with college.

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